Tough Call
by Sam C
Summary: Time for some action! The new propulsion system is ready to be tested, but will it work as the crew desperately hope, taking Voyager home? Chakotay is struggling to cope, whilst Janeway has some hard decisions ahead. 7th in series, J/7
1. Chapter 1

This story is the seventh in this series after 'Distress Call', 'House Call', 'Call to Arms', 'Call me Kathryn' and 'A Call from the Dark Side' and 'It's Your Call'. All stories in the series feature a relationship between two women with sexual scenes. If you don't like that, don't read this.

Tough Call

**Part One**

Seated in a comfortable-looking, threadbare armchair, a small, frail man held an ornately-decorated wooden box. His gnarled fingers struggled to remove the lid of what was originally a tea caddy, until twenty years ago when he had unceremoniously dumped out the tea leaves and put the container to a different use.

Around the high-ceilinged room were cabinets, cupboards and chests-of-drawers of all shapes and sizes, in which were kept the man's lifetime's work. Over his sixty-year career as a biologist and palaeontologist of some note, Dr. Grout had amassed thousands of fossils, preserved animal and plant specimens, drawings and diagrams and soil samples, each one carefully labelled and stored safely for future generations to examine.

Not labelled, however, was the item he now removed from the caddy, handling it with a mixture of wonder and apprehension, turning it over and over in his bony fingers as he had done on countless occasions since he found it. The curious metal fragment had been buried in an undisturbed layer of soil, which in itself wasn't at all remarkable. What was disturbing was that it lay beneath the almost complete fossil of a dinosaur which he and his team were excavating. This worried Grout so much that, panicked and fearing for his reputation as a credible scientist, he had hidden the find immediately and told no-one until ten years had passed.

Studying the matchbox-sized fragment with old, tired eyes, he recalled the words of a fellow scientist and best friend, now long dead. As Grout remembered, he whispered the words that had burned into his memory. "Dear boy, if you value your career, put this thing where no-one will find it, or you'll be the laughing stock of Oxford. This metal is unlike anything we know; it isn't even within shouting distance of Dmitri's blasted periodic table. For God's sake, man, keep this quiet, or we'll both look like fools!"

With the coal fire burnt down to a pile of glowing embers, the room was cooling rapidly, darkness setting in which was barely combatted by the light from two flickering candles. Breathing out a long, deep sigh, Dr. Grout placed the metal piece back in its box and set the lid back on with a soft clunk. Tomorrow he would throw the caddy and its unexplainable contents into the swirling waters of the Isis and attempt to forget that it ever existed, for he was an old man and would soon be gone, his collection left to other, younger, braver and more curious scientists.

**Part Two**

One-Upward was almost empty, for the hour was still early, and anyone who chanced to drift in would not, at first glance, notice the lone figure slumped, semi-hidden, at a corner table. One large hand gripped a small glass tightly, as though were it not for this firm hold the glass would wander off of its own accord. The other reached for a bottle of amber-coloured liquid, unsteadily curling thick fingers around the neck and tipping it, splashing a generous amount of whisky into the glass as well as over the surrounding table. The man grunted and clumsily wiped up the spillage with an already-damp sleeve. As he raised the glass to his lips, body swaying, his keen ears heard the sound of voices before the doors swished open. With a few muttered words, holding on to both glass and bottle, a blue light enveloped the bulky form, and within seconds the man disappeared.

**Part Three**

"Morning," Janeway murmured lazily, rolling onto her side to face her lover and wrapping her arms around the warm body, pulling Seven-of-Nine close and softly kissing the bare skin of the young woman's neck. Seven responded with actions rather than words, raising up onto one elbow so than she was above Janeway's naked body before lowering herself and taking a hard nipple into her mouth. She sucked briefly, then began flicking her tongue across it, eliciting quiet moans from Voyager's Captain which grew louder as the ex-Borg's wandering hands caressed the older woman's stomach and thighs.

Moving her lips across to the other small, perfect breast, Seven gave that the same treatment, teasing the nipple with her dancing tongue. Slowly, one hand crept up the inside of Janeway's leg, the back of Seven's hand lightly brushing against the triangular patch of thick, auburn hair that felt soft against the young woman's pale skin. The Captain shuddered a little, instinctively raising her hips to create more pressure against the sensitive area, and her lover obliged, rubbing the delicious folds with her palm in a rhythmic, circular motion.

Gasping, Janeway squirmed under the touch, and the blonde continued, feeling a growing wetness against her fingers as the older woman's arousal grew. Continuing to stimulate her lover, Seven adjusted the position of her hand slightly, allowing her long, slender middle finger to reach the moist opening and slip inside, penetrating her partner little by little. As Seven continued her movements, pressing harder now against the small bundle of nerves, the finger moved in and out, deeper each time, and when the Borg curled her finger up slightly Janeway's body stiffened, a yelp of pleasure escaping her throat followed by ecstatic moans as her climax took hold.

Continuing as her lover reached her peak, Seven once again took a nipple in her mouth, nipping it gently between her teeth before sucking once again, harder this time. The Captain's hips bucked and thrust, her moans laboured and gasping as the throes of orgasm washed through her, reaching every part of her with a warm flood of release. When her movements subsided, Seven withdrew her finger, caressing Janeway for a few more seconds before moving her hand and taking the older woman in her arms, kissing her passionately on the lips. The young blonde smiled as she held her lover, who still shook slightly as she melted into the ex-Borg's strong yet gentle grasp.

"Thank you," whispered Janeway, "that was…amazing."

Seven's response was to hug her partner tighter, feeling her own arousal grow as her body pressed against Janeway's.

**Part Four**

Though the majority of the ship was still running on night mode, the corridors dimly illuminated and sounds muted, Engineering was a blazing beacon of light and activity, with Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres scurrying between workstations and wielding a variety of tools, barking orders and sporting a constant grin.

"Parker!" shouted the feisty half-Klingon, causing a yellow-uniformed crewman to jump, startled, before hurrying to Torres's side, perspiring heavily.

"Aye, Sir?"

"How's the warp constrictor alignment coming along?" B'Elanna demanded, continuing to work even as she spoke.

The crewman allowed himself a tentative smile as he replied. "Finished, Lieutenant. I ran several simulations without any problems, either with the QL drive or Voyager's systems."

Clapping the man heartily on the back and causing him to stumble slightly, Torres's grin widened, her eyes flashing with excitement. "Excellent," she breathed, turning to look yet again at the huge piece of technology that stood adjacent to Voyager's warp reactor, now almost fully integrated with their own Starfleet systems.

The 'Quantum Leap' drive, or QL, had been a generous gift from a grateful alien race, one of the few that the Voyager crew had encountered during their journey through the dangerous and – for the most part – unfriendly Delta Quadrant. Working on the principle of the folding of space-time, Torres had seen it in action many times during their dealings with the Talkari, and despite her fears of materialising at the other end of the universe or being turned to mush, the alien technology worked flawlessly – on their ships. The hard part, which was now into its third week, was integrating QL with Voyager's engineering technology, but little by little this had been achieved. B'Elanna was immensely proud of her crew, each of whom had put in over and above the time and effort normally expected of them. She was also tired, dirty and hungry.

"I'm going off duty for a few hours," announced the small woman, to no-one in particular, wiping her grubby hands on her even grubbier trousers. Without waiting for a reply, for every person in engineering was concentrating on their assigned tasks, Torres strode out of her domain into the cool, dim corridor beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

Tough Call 2

**Part One**

"Torres to Janeway."

The Captain tapped her comm badge smartly, sitting up straighter in her chair at the ready room desk and taking a final gulp of coffee, grimacing as she swallowed the tepid liquid. "Go ahead," she replied, though she had been expecting the call and knew what the message would be.

"Captain, we're ready for you on the holodeck."

"Acknowledged. On my way." Janeway was already rising from her seat as she ended the communication, and she strode briskly across the room. She had managed to resist thinking about Earth and her family until now, but as the crew prepared for a full simulation of the 'Quantum Leap' drive, fleeting images of home entered her thoughts. Her sister, wearing one of the floaty, pretty dresses she favoured in the summer, sipping iced tea on the porch and basking in the sun. Her mother, smiling at her, welcoming Kathryn Janeway back with a warm hug. She shook the images from her mind and, with her face set in a determined, flat expression, Voyager's Captain made her way to Holodeck One.

**Part Two**

"Torres to Chakotay."

B'Elanna's words cut through the fog clouding the First Officer's brain, barely registering in his fuddled mind. He coughed, and when he did so a sharp lance of pain pierced his skull, so intense that Chakotay cried out as he sank back into the chair. He blinked, or tried to, for his eyelids felt like files rasping against his dry eyeballs, causing another whimper to escape. Reaching out to steady himself, the Commander dragged his aching body into a semblance of an upright posture, vaguely realising that he wore only a pair of boxer shorts.

"Torres to Chakotay, are you there, Commander?" The engineer's voice held a note of impatience, and Chakotay forced himself to open his eyes, searching for his uniform jacket and his comm badge along with it. Finally spotting a flash of red, he bent over, bringing the pain crashing through his head once again and a wave of nausea boiling up from his churning guts. Swallowing desperately, he made a grab for the jacket and felt cool metal on his fingertips, pressing it gratefully.

"Chakotay here," he croaked, wincing from the effort. Silence greeted him for a full twenty seconds before Torres eventually replied.

"Are you okay, Chakotay?"

The First Officer was relieved to hear only concern in his friend's tone, rather than suspicion or worse, and when he answered he made no effort to disguise his state of discomfort. "Actually, B'Elanna, I'm feeling a little under the weather. Can you tell the Captain I'm requesting personal leave for today? These night shifts have been a killer." It was a long shot, for normally at the first sign of illness crew members would be expected to visit the Doctor, however Janeway respected and trusted him enough that he hoped she wouldn't question his request. With any luck, the excitement of trying out the QL drive would distract the Captain sufficiently.

"Alright, if you're sure you're okay?"

"I'll be fine, B'Elanna. Good luck with the simulations. Chakotay out."

Dropping the uniform jacket where he stood, he turned his head slowly, registering the disarray of his quarters, the mess of clothing and crockery and PADDs scattered around, along with several empty drink bottles and various glasses, all of which were dirty and many stained inside. He stepped forward, the intention being to smarten up first himself and then his quarters, but when he moved the sickness rose again and he vomited, a thin stream of brown liquid running down his bare chest and dripping onto the floor. Unable to stop it or to move to the bathroom, Chakotay gazed downwards at the dark, wet patch on the carpet, his head throbbing to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Sinking back into the filthy chair, he drifted back into blissful unconsciousness.

**Part Three**

As they had been in the past, the two holodecks were being used simultaneously with the same simulation – Holodeck One recreating Voyager's bridge whilst Holodeck Two ran a simulation of Engineering. Janeway pressed a button on the console next to her chair. "Janeway to Engineering, status."

"Ready, Captain," replied Torres's confident voice, and the Captain nodded.

"Alright then. Everybody ready?" Nobody disagreed, and she continued, her tapping fingers the only outward sign of the tension she was feeling, despite this being only a simulation in which nobody could come to any harm. "Bring the QL drive online."

Harry Kim was at his usual post, manning the operations console, and he watched the display carefully. "QL online," he reported, grinning like a schoolboy. Janeway shot a meaningful look at her youngest officer.

"Careful, Mr. Kim. Don't get too excited, this is a long way from the real thing."

"Aye, Captain."

His tone was, if anything, even more buoyant, and Janeway smiled to herself. Gripping the arms of the Captain's chair, she spoke again. "Let's try a small leap first, B'Elanna, say, one thousand light years?"

"Acknowledged," came the reply from the Klingon. "Stand by. QL engaged. Leaping in four…three…two…one…"

The simulated bridge shook, not severely but enough to dislodge Tom Paris from the helmsman's seat and dump him unceremoniously on the floor. Sheepishly he got to his feet, rubbing his backside ruefully and avoiding the Captain's withering glare.

"Forget our seatbelt, did we, Mr. Paris?" Janeway's tone could have sliced steel, and Paris's expression was suitably regretful. Ignoring his hasty apology, the Captain turned to Seven-of-Nine, who stood at a secondary console that simulated the function of Astrometrics. "Well?" she demanded, forgetting for a moment that this was only a simulation in her haste to ascertain whether they had, in fact, leapt anywhere.

The blonde turned to face her Captain and lover, her cool ice-blue eyes meeting Janeway's, causing a tingle to run down the older woman's neck despite the complete inappropriateness of the circumstances. "The leap was completed. We have travelled one thousand and seventeen light years from our starting position."

"Congratulations, B'Elanna," Janeway said, grinning with relief before assuming a more sober expression once again. "Let's try a bigger jump, shall we?"

The bridge crew were quiet as the reply came from Engineering. "How big were you thinking, Captain?"

"Oh, sixty thousand light years or so," Janeway replied nonchalantly, eliciting gasps from Harry Kim and others present on the simulated bridge. "Think it'll work?"

"Only one way to find out." The Captain could hear the suppressed excitement in her friend's voice and wondered if she had sounded similarly eager. "Prepare for leaping. QL engaged, leap in four…three…two…one…"

The holodeck simulated another bout of shaking, more violent than the last, and though the standing crewmembers were forced to cling onto the handrails in order to stay upright, nobody ended up on the floor. The turbulence intensified, and several alarms began to beep.

"B'Elanna, what's going on!" shouted Janeway, hanging onto her seat as she was buffeted left and right.

"There's a phase variance developing in the warp constrictors, Captain. I'll have to adjust it manually." Several seconds passed during which time the shaking grew worse, and Janeway was on the verge of ordering the simulation terminated when the movement subsided and Torres's voice spoke once more over the comm system, oddly strained. "I was able to make the adjustments, but we'll have to do that whenever we attempt longer leaps."

The engineer's voice tailed off towards the end of the sentence, and Janeway rose to her feet, immediately concerned. "B'Elanna? Are you alright?"

The reply was weak, but audible. "I took a bit of a tumble, Captain. I think several bones are broken. I'm transporting myself to sick bay."

"I'll meet you there," answered Janeway instantly, turning to face Seven-of-Nine once again. "Report, Seven?"

"Another successful leap. We have travelled approximately fifty-eight thousand light years."

There was another interlude of silence as every person in the room contemplated the implications of the simulation they had just run, flawlessly, with only a minor complication arising. It was Harry Kim who spoke first.

"Is it just me, or does anyone else think this seemed just a little too easy?"

Paris sighed and swivelled around in his seat. "It's just you, Harry," he declared, laughing as he stood. Janeway shot him another look.

"Thank you, Mr. Paris. You're all dismissed – go back to your duty stations. I'll let you know when and what the next steps will be." Janeway was the first to leave the holodeck, rushing to get to sick bay even though broken bones were no matter of urgency and Torres was one of the toughest people aboard Voyager. Klingons, thought Janeway, even half-Klingons, were generally the toughest people aboard any ship.

**Part Four**

Delicious aromas wafted across the quarters Janeway now shared with Seven-of-Nine, drifting into the steamy bathroom where the Captain lay blissfully soaking in her large, round bathtub, full to the brim with hot water and fragrant bubbles. She sniffed appreciatively, idly wondering what culinary delights awaited her, for her ex-Borg partner had demonstrated an aptitude for cooking that far surpassed Janeway's own.

Through the mist, the tall form of the young woman appeared, perching on the side of the bath and looking down appreciatively upon Janeway for a moment before speaking. "Dinner is ready, Kathryn," declared Seven, and Janeway groaned.

"Does that mean I have to get out?" asked the older woman plaintively, and Seven nodded, rising and taking a fluffy towel from the rail on the wall. She held it out as Janeway stood, stretching her nude, wet body and stepping into her lover's waiting arms. The two women embraced tightly, Janeway feeling a familiar heat rising in her groin and stepping backwards reluctantly. "If we're ever going to eat, you'd better leave me to dry myself," she warned, smiling.

"As you wish, Captain." Seven left the bathroom, and returned to the small kitchen section she had insisted on having installed on one side of the living room, where she began to prepare fresh salads for their starters. In a few minutes Janeway joined her, circling her arms around the Borg's waist from behind and pressing the length of her body against the younger woman. Halting mid-chop, Seven turned around and pulled her partner tightly towards her, kissing Janeway on the lips. The kiss deepened, their tongues probing gently with an increasing urgency, and when they broke off both women were breathing heavily.

"I believe we should eat now," stated Seven, and Janeway laughed, picking up the salad plates and carrying them over to the dining table which was already laid in preparation for the meal. They settled into their customary chairs, facing each other, and began to eat, neither speaking for several minutes until Janeway put down her cutlery and stared thoughtfully at the blonde.

"You've been quiet all evening, Seven. Something on your mind?"

"Nothing in particular," hedged Seven, and the Captain recognised her partner's attempt at dodging the question, something at which she was becoming more adept each day.

Reaching out a hand, Janeway took Seven's mesh-covered fingers in her own and squeezed them gently. "What is it?" she asked softly, meeting the ice-blue eyes.

"I am…concerned about the QL drive," admitted the young woman, toying with her fork in her other hand. "The Borg never succeeded in mastering space-folding technology. Whenever they attempted such journeys, problems arose. Many vessels were destroyed before they abandoned the attempts."

"Seven, we've run dozens of simulations without mishap. So long as we correct that phase variance, there's nothing to worry about." Janeway squeezed her lover's hand again. "It will be fine. This time tomorrow, we'll be home."

"If you say so," answered Seven, her tone unconvinced. The meals were finished in silence, despite several more attempts by Janeway to start a conversation, and the young Borg remained uncommunicative for the rest of the evening. Their lovemaking was brief and unsatisfying, and it was with a distinctly sour mood that Janeway finally fell asleep on what she hoped would be their final night in the Delta Quadrant.


	3. Chapter 3

Tough Call 3

**Part One**

In the half-light simulated by Voyager's systems, supposedly replicating the sunrise of a July day in Earth's Northern Hemisphere, Kathryn Janeway lay still. Hearing the soft breathing of her lover beside her, she remained frozen in position, not daring to make the slightest movement, for Seven-of-Nine was surely only lightly sleeping. Janeway's arms were bare, not covered by the soft duvet, the Captain preferring to remain unfettered by bedclothes lest some alien intruder happened to wander into the Captain's Quarters. Inch by inch, the determined woman slid from her bed, ending up on her hands and knees. Satisfied she hadn't disturbed the sleeping blonde, Janeway pushed herself slowly to her feet.

"I assume it is time to arise," stated Seven's melodious voice, somewhat muffled yet inevitably slightly patronising. "Would you like me to cook breakfast?"

Voyager's Captain slowly stood and regarded the duvet-wrapped hump with amusement. She knew that Seven-of-Nine could, if necessary, be up and about in an instant, yet she was determined that her early awakening should not disturb her partner. "Thanks, Seven, but I think I'll head to the Mess Hall." Janeway began pulling on her uniform, crisp and clean.

"The Mess Hall isn't open until 07:00 hours, Captain," pointed out the voice, before finally Seven rolled over, exposing pale, rounded breasts to Janeway, who suddenly felt a lot less like having breakfast in the Mess Hall.

**Part Two**

A bottle clinked against a glass, once, twice, then again, a sign of an unsteady hand. In his quarters, Chakotay stood in the darkness, leaning heavily against a bulkhead. A colourless liquid dribbled from the bottle which he held, pooling on the counter and dripping onto the soiled carpet. Struggling, he lifted the bottle so that the spirit ran into a fine-cut glass, which had been a present several years ago from Captain Janeway. Chakotay watched, mesmerised, as the glass filled, his mind only vaguely in the present, and when the glass started to overflow he jerked his hand back suddenly, tipping the glass off the counter. It landed with a dull thud which sounded innocuous, but upon retrieving the vessel the First Officer saw that it was now badly cracked. Silent tears ran down his face as, setting the glass aside, he drank freely from the spirit bottle.

**Part Three**

"Lieutenant, you are not fit to leave this sick bay. Please do not attempt to do so!"

The Doctor's words were insistent, and after a pointed glare which had less effect on the Doctor than a whistle in a hurricane, Torres ceased her efforts to leave the bed she occupied in Voyager's medical suite.

"It's just a couple of broken bones. What's the problem?" demanded B'Elanna, shifting her weight slowly towards the end of the bed. The damn things were well-designed, though, and she was unable to slide off the end without ripping off vital parts of her anatomy.

Voyager's Chief Medical Officer grinned. "The problem, Lieutenant, is that these _broken bones_ have pierced several of your vital organs. Had I not been around to operate with my delicate expertise, you would have died. Now, lie back and remain still, or I will be forced to sedate you."

"Doctor, you don't understand!" Torres's tone was plaintive now. "I have to be in Engineering today. We're bringing the QL drive online. I have to be there, they need me!"

"I'm sure that aboard a ship like Voyager there are ample qualified personnel who could take your place, B'Elanna. You are staying here – that's an order." Turning away, Voyager's holographic Doctor hid a fleeting grimace. From conversations with others, he had developed worries about the impending jump, and as far as he was concerned, the longer the Chief Engineer stayed in Sick Bay, the longer Voyager would remain safely in the Delta Quadrant. It was a medical officer's opinion, he knew - and a hologram's to boot - but he had a feeling that things just weren't quite right.

**Part Four**

The bridge crew stood ready, occupying their usual stations. Seven-of-Nine manned a small console which had been linked to Astrometrics, standing just feet from Janeway. Both turned simultaneously to meet the other's gaze. Just a nod passed between them, nothing more, yet in that small gesture was a wealth of emotion, love and devotion that needed no words. Turning towards the front, Janeway spoke.

"Janeway to Engineering. Chakotay, are you ready?"

The channel was silent for a few seconds before the first officer replied, his voice hoarse. "Ready, Captain." The tone was somewhat shaky, and Janeway's eyes met Seven's, who pressed her comm badge.

"Commander Chakotay, do you require assistance?"

"Negative. I have it under control."

"Do not forget that the variance must be adjusted harmonically. It will require swift reactions."

"I said I have it under control, Seven!" Chakotay replied snippily, cutting off the communication. Janeway and Seven exchanged a long look, neither of them willing to speak, yet both would wish that they had.

"Engage QL drive," ordered Janeway, and Tom Paris's fingers danced with practised ease over the controls. The ship's engines hummed and increased in their intensity, their power causing the ship to shudder with their sheer force. "Set course and distance, sixty-five thousand light years. Let's go home."

"Course set, Captain."

"Engage."

The shaking increased as Voyager began her trip through folded space, and intensified with every second. After half a minute had passed, the turbulence was unbearable. "Chakotay!" yelled Janeway, "What's happening? Are you adjusting the variance?" Her words were met with silence. The ship juddered along, crew members throughout Voyager being tossed around like confetti as she ploughed on through folded space.

**Part Five**

Kathryn Janeway hauled herself upright and, for the umpteenth time during Voyager's sojourn in the Delta Quadrant, realised how heartily fed up she was of regaining consciousness on a smoky, beeping, dark Bridge. Muttering curses under her breath, she reached a shaking hand out to steady herself as she turned as swiftly as she could manage. As the auburn-haired Captain did so, she saw with relief that others were also regaining their feet, and when Janeway's eyes came to rest upon her partner, a snort of laughter escaped her lips, hurriedly stifled.

"Is something amusing about my appearance, Captain?" demanded Seven-of-Nine archly, glaring at the older woman with the expression of the unjustly insulted. The snort became a laugh then as Janeway's gaze took in the wild blonde hair, streaked with dirt and tangled, the crumpled green uniform that was slightly torn from an unfortunate encounter with a broken piece of console.

"No, Seven, nothing at all," she chuckled, thinking that Seven had never looked more appealing. With more than a little effort, Janeway returned her attention to the ship. "Everyone alright? Tuvok, damage report."

"All engines are offline, Captain. Transporters are not functioning-"

"What a surprise," interjected Paris, sarcasm dripping. The Vulcan chose to ignore the interruption and continued without pause.

"- and shields and long range sensors have suffered considerable damage. There are fourteen casualties reported, none severe."

The Captain nodded slowly. All in all, not too bad considering this was their first dalliance with a completely alien technology. Suddenly, she was jerked into action, the realisation that they had indeed used the space-folding technology, albeit emerging with a few scrapes, raising her pulse rate as she whirled around to face the viewscreen.

"Seven, can you give us a picture of what's out there?"

For several seconds, perceived as minutes by white-faced officers, no-one uttered a word. All eyes rested upon the viewscreen, where a green and blue orb hung in one corner, a silvery marble close by. Hopes, dreams, thoughts of the old, the familiar came rushing back in a torrent of emotion which showed plainly on the faces of every crewmember who had access to a viewscreen or starboard-facing window. Every crewmember, that is, except B'Elanna Torres, for whom broken bones, pierced organs and an irate medical hologram were little obstruction when it came to overseeing the QL drive in action from the comfort of her hospital bed. Surrounded by mobile consoles, the half-Klingon jabbed at her comm badge with a long finger.

"Torres to Janeway."

Irritated, confused and guilt-ridden for being unable to perform her duties in Engineering, the answering silence did not sit well with the feisty Chief Engineer. The next stab threatened to snap her comm badge in two.

"Captain Janeway, respond. Please," she added as an afterthought.

"Janeway here. Go ahead, B'Elanna, but make it quick, we've got a lot to do." There was no mistaking the elation in the Captain's voice, and it was with a sinking heart that Torres spoke again.

"I'm guessing your sensors are fried up there, Captain, but I'm looking at the data right now, and you're not gonna like it one bit. It's about where we are – or, to be precise, _when_ we are."

On the Bridge, it took all of Janeway's willpower to tear her eyes away from the magical sight in front of her. Earth, in all her glory, appearing still due to Voyager's geostationary orbital path. The small ice-caps glowed bright white like frosting, and greens, yellows and browns mingled together, surrounded by deepest blue. "What are you talking about, Lieutenant?"

Her tone was exasperated and dismissive, but Torres ploughed on, sure now that she was correct. "Don't ask me what – I don't know yet – but something went wrong with the leap. We're not where we're supposed to be. I mean when. I mean – Captain, it's-"

B'Elanna's uncharacteristically hesitant speech was interrupted by the sound of yet another warning bleep which added to the various sounds emanating from around the bridge. Janeway had had enough.

"Turn those damn things off!" she snapped, and in very short order there was blissful silence.

"Captain, I have detected an unauthorised shuttle launch. It's the Delta Flyer."

"I wish it were me," muttered Tom Paris, shooting a sly grin across the bridge to his friend, Harry Kim, who frowned in reply. The Captain's glare could have frozen lava.

"Who's on it?" demanded Janeway, "and why? Earth's not going anywhere, and we've got plenty to do here first before we can go home."

Over the ship's communicators, Torres's voice came again, stronger this time with a large dose of forced calm. "That's just it, Captain – we can't go home. We're not actually home. Oh, it's Earth alright, but haven't you wondered where, say, New York is? Or why there aren't any other ships around? Captain, we have reached Earth, but it's not the twenty-third century. Somehow, the QL drive malfunctioned and we've travelled 65 thousand light years through space…and 65 million years through time. This is Earth in the Cretaceous period, complete with dinosaurs and volcanoes and jungle everywhere!" she finished, voice rising to a near-shout.

Head hanging low on her suddenly weary shoulders, it was with a whisper that Janeway answered. From across the Bridge, her lover watched with concern, such was the instant change in her partner's demeanour, from oozing with confidence and determination to the pathetic figure she now appeared, slumping into her chair with little regard to the impression she was giving.

"Tuvok, who's in the shuttle?"

The tall Vulcan regarded his captain carefully before he spoke, gauging her reaction to yet more disturbing news. "Commander Chakotay is the only crewmember missing from Voyager. I believe he used the confusion following the leap to commandeer a shuttle and leave the ship. The last sensor readings I have show the Delta Flyer on course for the South American continent."

Janeway barely moved, despite the seriousness of the situation. "Seven, organise a rescue mission. I'll be in my Ready Room." The Captain was gone before the young Borg could reply, disappearing into her private room a beaten, lone figure.


	4. Chapter 4

Tough Call 4

**Part One**

Sounds of the jungle surrounded the lone man, hooting and twittering and rustling, and sweat poured down his neck onto the dirty collar, the humidity and heat almost unbearable. Or at least, it would have been had the man had full awareness of his surroundings. Instead, he was locked inside his own head, thoughts and emotions swirling as chaotically as the labyrinth of branches towering above.

_Useless. Pathetic. _

Twenty paces away, a heap of tangled metal smouldered, tiny flames licking out from underneath which were swiftly quenched by the damp air. The shuttlecraft was heavily damaged, probably irreparably, but the man was oblivious. It was more by luck than judgement that he had survived the semi-deliberate crash, coming to rest in a shadowy clearing where a few of the sun's feeble rays managed to penetrate to the scrub-covered ground.

_Unprofessional. Drunkard._

A quiet beep sounded, a few paces away, muffled by vegetation. Like all the other noises, an Amazonian cacophony born of flora and fauna, it was ignored. Insistently it continued, a tinny, shrill summons from the real world, a world which – for the Voyager crew, anyway – was in a bit of a pickle.

_Demotion. Punishment._

Seconds ticked by, coalescing into minutes and then hours, and Chakotay did not move.

**Part Two**

As always, the Captain was never left alone for long, however during the ten minutes Janeway had to herself she had shaken off the gut-wrenching disappointment and the plain shock, and when Seven-of-Nine entered her Ready Room, she was back to her normal self.

"Ah, Seven, is the rescue team ready? I'd like this to go smoothly, so that we can start to figure out how the hell to get us back to the twenty-third century in one piece. Who's in the away team?"

Standing straight, hands clasped behind her back in the usual manner, the Borg replied coolly, her partner's reactions to the events on the Bridge still sharp in her memory. "I have selected myself, Mr. Paris and the Doctor to perform the rescue of Commander Chakotay, Captain. I assume that is acceptable?" The half-question was accompanied by raised eyebrows, so typical of the young blonde, and Janeway smiled in return.

"Of course, Seven." The older woman approached her partner and stood barely an inch away, gazing into the ice-blue eyes with gratitude and affection. "Be careful," she whispered, before leaning forward and brushing a delicate kiss against Seven's full lips, a tingle running through both their bodies at the light contact. The younger woman's strong arms impulsively reached out, looping around Janeway's waist and pulling them closer, their bodies pressed together tightly. Gasping at the unexpected touch, the Captain allowed herself to melt into her lover's embrace, warmth spreading from deep inside as the two women moulded together. Seven's soft breasts pressed against Janeway's chest, and the dark-haired woman, lost in the moment, tilted her head downwards and planted a kiss on each swell, catching her lover's distinct personal fragrance and inhaling deeply.

Tingles of pleasure awakened and coursed through the older woman, caught up in the moment now despite Voyager's predicament. Urgently now, Janeway's fingers burrowed under the blonde's green uniform jacket, finding smooth skin and caressing lightly, moving upwards until her hands found the rounded, firm mounds. Seeking out Seven's nipples, hardened with Janeway's touch, the Captain pinched sharply, bringing forth a yelp of pleasure mingled with pain. Kissing again, deeply this time, Janeway's eyes locked onto the Borg's pale blue gaze, watching every change in expression as she ventured downwards with one hand, breaching the waistband of the younger woman's trousers and continuing. The ice-blue eyes opened wide as Janeway's talented fingers reached the warm, moist folds, small gasps coming faster to match the circling of the Captain's palm.

Gently yet with a deliberate firmness, Janeway curled one finger inside her partner, eyes still locked together in an unbreakable exchange. Seven's lids were hooded now with desire and arousal, and the dark-haired woman entered deeper, stroking her lover from the inside, knowing how it would feel. Pressing her palm against the furry, blonde mound, Janeway's thumb found her lover's pink bud, swollen heavily, and brushed across it rhythmically. At the same time the Captain's finger curled upwards and back, finding the centre of pleasure that made the younger woman moan as her body jerked against Janeway's. Keeping her movements steady, Janeway continued until, with a cry of pure pleasure, Seven's limbs convulsed four, five, six times before sagging into her Captain's arms.

**Part Three**

The shuttlecraft _Tereshkova_ settled gently to the ground and rested in a large, open clearing surrounded by low vegetation. It was warm and humid, uncomfortably so opposite the cool, dry air inside the shuttle. One by one the away team emerged, blinking as their pupils adjusted from the dim, artificial light to the brightness of Earth's Sun.

"So, let me get this right," began Tom Paris, trying hard to keep an expression of baffled puzzlement from his features, "we are _actually_ on Earth?"

"Correct."

"And we've gone back in time?"

"Yes."

"And this is really-"

Seven-of-Nine turned to her friend, hands on hips and with a sharpening edge to her tone that would have caused Paris to drop his questioning even if the Borg hadn't spoken another word. "Your questions are unnecessary. All the information you require was in the away mission briefing. I assume you neglected to read it?"

A shameful nod answered the question, and the three walked in silence for a few minutes, tricorders pointing in all directions.

"I've got something," said the Doctor quietly, raising his left arm to point towards a line of trees that were taller and more dense than those they stood amongst. "A human lifesign, approximately two kilometres away."

"Guess we've found our esteemed first officer," drawled Tom with a sarcastic sneer. Never his favourite commanding officer nor best buddy, the helmsman's contempt for Commander Chakotay was obvious to all. Not only was the man an alcoholic, he was now a criminal, having stolen the Delta Flyer from under Janeway's nose and gone off on a jolly by himself. Perhaps he should be executed for mutiny, mused Paris, the thought cheering him up a bit. In his mind, nobody should be able to treat Captain Janeway so badly and expect to survive, let alone keep his job and rank.

"Keep up, Mr. Paris," called the Doctor, and the young man hurried to do that, putting thoughts of Chakotay's fate from his mind. He still had to rescue the man, after all.

**Part Four**

Aboard Voyager, the mood on the bridge remained unchanged. Captain Janeway sat rigid, staring out of the viewscreen at the blue and green orb, half-lit by the bright yellow glow of the sun. Knowing that wishful thinking was pointless, her thoughts were on the away team and Chakotay. There was very little danger, she knew, but still a gnawing feeling of discomfort tugged at her gut, and she could not leave her station despite her desperate need for hot, black coffee. Eventually she cracked.

"Mr. Kim?"

The young officer looked up from the display, where he had been carefully monitoring several readouts at the ops station. "Yes, Captain?"

"Get me a coffee, would you? And make it strong, the real stuff. I'd avoid Mr. Neelix, Lieutenant. Whatever he served me yesterday, it certainly wasn't coffee!"

"Aye, Captain."

Always eager to please, Harry disappeared into the turbolift whilst Janeway settled comfortably into her chair once more. Trouble with drinking coffee on the bridge was that soon afterwards she would have to visit the head, and everyone would know where she was going. The difficulties of captaincy never ceased, thought Janeway with a wry smile, turning back to the viewscreen. The North American continent was just coming into view, and with it a keen sense of loss and displacement welled up, not just inside the Captain but others on the bridge, who all paused and stared longingly at the image until a voice intruded on their reveries, as simultaneously a warning beep sounded an alert.

"Captain, an object has just appeared on short-range sensors. It appears to be-"

Janeway held up a silencing hand. "Short-range sensors? Don't tell me the long-range sensors are still offline?"

Tuvok, sensing his Captain's growing irritation, wisely didn't answer the implied question. "It is an asteroid, bearing 213 mark 4. Captain-"

"Earth." Janeway spoke softly, her eyes drawn to the slowly revolving sphere. "It's heading for Earth." She stood, turning her full attention on the calm Vulcan officer. "How big is it, Tuvok?"

"It is large enough to bring about the Cretaceous Mass Extinction Event." Shocked faces gaped in response, with even Janeway showing surprise coupled with horror. "That is what you were asking me, Captain, was it not?"

Kathryn Janeway breathed out slowly, willing her racing thoughts to coalesce and steady. "Yes. Yes, it was. We know it happened, Tuvok, but witnessing it first-hand? I'm not sure I want to see that."

Harry, having quickly reversed his entry into the turbolift, was studying the sensor readout, and cleared his throat from across the bridge. The Captain turned to regard him with an unexpected smile.

"Captain, the asteroid will arrive in just over two hours. Shall I contact the away team?"

"Thank you, Mr. Kim. Their last report said they were closing in on Chakotay's position – they should be en route back to the shuttle now. Have them take off as soon as they reach it, and absolutely no sightseeing."

With a grin, Kim hailed the away team, a rather grumpy Tom Paris answering. After relaying the message, the young Lieutenant leaned back in his chair. It was going to be one hell of a show.

**Part Five**

Chakotay stumbled as the four Voyager officers made their way through the dense vegetation, which slapped at their faces and tugged at their clothes like a many-limbed beast. The First Officer felt himself grasped tightly by the arm and yanked up none-too-gently, unsurprising given that the arm belonged to Seven-of-Nine, whose thoughts regarding the Commander's fate ran roughly parallel to those of Tom Paris earlier, except with more blood and screaming.

Stifling a cry of pain as a thorny rope dragged across his battered cheek, Chakotay didn't care, for nothing, no punishment at all, would be enough to pay for his actions. It was his fault they were stranded in time in the first place, for had he not been drunk on duty as the quantum leap was made, he would have done his job properly and Voyager would be home. But even after that terrible lapse, he couldn't just face the music. No, he had to pursue his own interests, defy orders and steal the _Delta Flyer_. I should be shot, he thought. No, worse – shoved out of an airlock, or fed to the Vidiians. Handed to the Borg, or put to work on one of those ghastly waste ships…

His train of thought was brought to an end as he walked into Paris, who had stopped abruptly in front of him. Shaking off Seven's arm, the Commander pushed past, shielding his eyes from the sun and peering in the direction the others were facing. What he saw was a scene that might have been amusing, were it not for the situation facing Earth, the asteroid hurtling towards them with destructive might the likes of which the planet had never before seen.

Towering above the shuttlecraft, three large creatures took turns to ram the hull with their huge horns, gouging great gashes in the fabric of the _Tereshkova_. One reared up on its hind legs before crashing down on the front screen of the little craft, smashing it to pieces. Quietly grunting, the smallest beast used parts of the debris as a scratching post, rubbing contentedly against the fractured hull. For a few minutes the humans watched as the great, lumbering creatures pounded, smashed, crushed and tore the shuttlecraft apart.

"Triceratops," whispered Chakotay. "We'd better contact Voyager. That shuttle's never going to fly again."

"Agreed. _I_ shall contact Voyager." Without waiting for a reply, Seven tapped her comm badge sharply. "Away team to Voyager."

"Go ahead, Seven." Janeway's voice was warm, and there was a slight hesitation before the young Borg continued.

"The _Tereshkova_ has been destroyed by indigenous creatures. We require assistance."

A long pause ticked by, and feelings of anxiety started to rise. The Doctor shook his head slowly, only to be glared at by Paris for daring to show any sign of discomfort. Chakotay stood unmoving, no longer feeling pain from his cuts and bruises, focused on the situation. Seven-of-Nine regarded the dinosaurs with cool detachment, admiring the brute strength on show yet wondering about the animals' brain capacity, for there was no gain in destroying the shuttlecraft.

Janeway spoke again, more urgently now. "Transporters are still offline. The asteroid is only forty minutes from impact. There…" her voice tailed off before resuming, stronger yet with a slight tremble that only the Captain's lover recognised. "There isn't time to send a rescue shuttle. We're working on it. Let me know if you have any suggestions. Voyager out."

Unable to bear hearing the sound of her partner's voice, the Captain cut off the communication without waiting for a response, for there was nothing anyone could say. During the gap in conversation with the away team, she had consulted briefly with her Second Officer, Junior Officer and Chief Engineer, but none had supplied a solution. Already Janeway felt a hole opening inside her, filling her heart with pain at the thought of losing the woman she loved. Forcing the devastating worry down, she called an emergency meeting of the senior officers who were left on board, acutely conscious of the plight those who were not.


	5. Chapter 5

Tough Call 5

**Part 1**

Three voices shouted at once, the volume inside the briefing room unbearable. Janeway sat with her head between her hands, her thumbs rubbing her temples in an attempt to calm her throbbing headache. Rising in volume, the argument continued until Janeway had simply had enough. She slammed her hand down hard on the table, the sharp crack stopping her officers short.

"Gentlemen, please. We're going round in circles. I want a full, frank opinion or suggestion from each one of you, then I will make any decisions necessary. B'Elanna, let's start with you."

The half-Klingon quickly drove the scowl from her features and addressed the room. There were only five people present; Captain Janeway, Tuvok, Harry Kim, Neelix and Torres herself. The absence of Voyager's other senior officers, stranded on prehistoric Earth, was keenly felt.

"We can easily destroy the asteroid, Captain. Then we can figure out what to do afterwards once the away team are back on board." The Chief Engineer sat back, folding her arms and daring anyone to contradict her. Janeway turned to her oldest friend.

"Tuvok? What about you?"

Steepling his fingers in front of him, elbows resting lightly on the table, the Vulcan's expression was grave. He met the Captain's gaze unflinchingly. "Voyager's weapons cannot precisely recreate an asteroid impact. We cannot interfere with Earth's history, Captain. We have seen the damage that even small changes in the timeline can cause, and we cannot risk taking any interfering action. To do so could have far-reaching consequences more devastating than we could imagine."

Janeway regarded the speaker closely, examining his expression for any hint that his opinion might falter, but finding none. Sighing inwardly, for she had to agree on principle, the Captain moved on. Harry Kim was almost bouncing from his seat, every part of him screaming with optimism.

"Captain, what if we patched the transporter system into the holodeck power grid? We've done it before, and-"

"Harry, it won't work," sighed Torres, waving an arm in annoyance. "We've been through this – it's not just the power systems that are damaged. Targeting-"

"We can use the sensors."

"Frequency modulation-"

"Which we can regulate manually," Harry interjected a second time.

"and the molecular scanners," continued the Klingon, glaring at her interrupter, "are also offline. It's just not possible, Harry. I'm sorry, Captain."

Nobody spoke for a long moment. Raising her head, Janeway's eyes rested on the final crewmember present. "Well, Mr. Neelix, have you anything to add?"

The furry Talaxian's long whiskers twitched and the little man stroked his chin thoughtfully, looking from Janeway to Torres and back. About to speak again, the Captain was stopped by a small cough from Neelix, who still appeared sombre but whose eyes suddenly shone. The whiskers trembled as he spoke.

"Well, ah, Captain, I was wondering. What exactly would happen to this, er, asteroid, if you were to 'blow it up', so to speak?"

Torres answered, her tone scathing yet tempered by sympathy, for the Talaxian was a sensitive man. "It would disintegrate, and its pieces would be strewn over a small area, forming a debris field. Why?"

Neelix ignored the Chief Engineer and turned excitedly back to Janeway, the tips of his ears flushing red. "Would it be possible to, well, stick the pieces back together?"

Janeway shook her head uncomprehendingly, and this time it was Tuvok who answered. "Theoretically, a powerful enough tractor beam could collect the debris and reform the asteroid. However, there would be no way to retrospectively recreate the kinetic energy it possessed prior to destruction."

Confusion showed plainly on the hairy face, but Janeway leant forward now, interested. "He means we couldn't shoot it at Earth with enough speed, Neelix. But-"

"If we put a couple of photon torpedoes inside it, that would give it the same amount of energy when it impacts at a lower speed," B'Elanna almost shouted, leaping from her seat. Janeway waved her hand in a calming motion.

"Alright, so it looks like we've got a plan. Will it work?" This question was addressed to the most experienced officer there, who thought carefully before answering.

Tuvok spoke slowly, aware that he was changing his previous conviction in favour of a far more risky strategy. "We will need to modify the tractor beam, and calculate the precise yield of the torpedoes necessary to recreate the asteroid impact. However, there will be time to do so once the asteroid has been destroyed. One standard torpedo, appropriately modified, should be sufficient."

"Let's do it." Janeway strode from the room, intent only on passing the news on to Seven-of-Nine, stranded on Earth with three other Voyager officers.

**Part 2**

More alert than he had felt in weeks, Chakotay felt his strength returning, though he knew that it was mainly due to the adrenalin coursing through his bloodstream – and the alcohol leaving it – as the group of officers sheltered behind a rocky outcrop, affording them a measure of safety whilst allowing them a front-row view as their shuttlecraft was torn to shreds.

"We'll be lucky if we can salvage so much as a light bulb," muttered Paris darkly, narrowing his eyes and glaring at the creatures responsible for the destruction. The effect on his boyish face was comical, and Seven-of-Nine suppressed a smile at her friend's expression. The Doctor was less amused.

"We will be lucky, Mr. Paris, if we escape with our lives, rather than being vaporised by the asteroid currently hurtling towards us!"

"Relax, Doc, the Captain will get us outta here. We've been in worse scrapes than this on away missions before." Tom patted the hologram on the back heartily.

Seven-of-Nine's comm badge chirruped suddenly, and everyone turned to look at the ex-Borg as she tapped it lightly.

"Seven-of-Nine here."

"Seven, we've got a plan. I'm afraid we won't be sending a rescue shuttle-"

At this, shouts of disbelief from the men threatened to drown out Janeway's voice, and Seven held up her hand, her stare icy. "I apologise, Captain. Please continue."

"We're going to destroy the asteroid."

Chakotay and the others stared at each other, their shock so great that their previous animosity was temporarily forgotten. "Captain," Chakotay began, "We can't risk-"

Janeway cut in, and there was a sharpness to her tone that made the first officer recoil. "The decision is made, Commander. A rescue mission will be launched after the asteroid is dealt with. I'll keep you posted, Seven." The last sentence was filled with warmth and reassurance, and the young woman felt a tingle in her stomach as she replied.

"Understood."

The communication was ended, and Paris looked at Seven with a blank expression. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now we wait," came the inevitable reply.

**Part Three**

"Welcome back, Seven, Tom, Doctor. Sorry to keep you waiting – we had to deal with the asteroid debris field before we could risk sending the rescue shuttle. I assume you're all alright?" Relief was plain on Janeway's face as her officers stepped off the transporter pad, dirty but otherwise unharmed. It had been over twelve hours since Voyager had destroyed the asteroid that should have killed off the majority of Earth's prehistoric creatures, and through that time the Captain's thoughts were of her stranded friends and partner.

"We're all perfectly well, Captain. In fact, I had the opportunity to study a very interesting plant that I believe may have significant medical -"

"What the Doc means," interrupted Paris, shooting a mock glare at the holographic Chief Medical Officer, "is that we're okay, but pretty hungry and thirsty. Mind if we, ah, freshen up?"

Janeway smiled at her young helmsman, never one to hold back his thoughts. "Of course, Tom. Just one thing – I assume you checked for any signs of shuttle debris before you were picked up? We cannot afford to leave anything behind."

"We checked the area after you had torpedoed the crash site, and believe, me, nothing could have survived. It was one big, smoking hole in the ground."

Seven nodded at the lieutenant's words. "Mr. Paris is correct, Captain. Also, the crash site is within the area known to be the impact zone of the asteroid – all traces of our presence will be removed when the impact is recreated."

"Thanks. Go and get cleaned up, all of you." Captain Janeway turned then to her First Officer, who stood erect and silent, waiting for the inevitable order. The worst thing wasn't that he would spend the rest of his life in Voyager's brig, nor that he had ruined the crew's chance of getting home. It was the disappointment in Janeway's eyes as she looked at him with pity. "Take Commander Chakotay to his quarters and detain him there. See that he gets a shower and a meal."

Two grim-faced, yellow-clad security officers stepped forward to flank Chakotay, not touching him as they escorted the sorry figure out of the room. Paris and the Doctor followed, and as soon as the door slid shut behind them, Janeway collapsed into Seven-of-Nine's waiting arms, her warm tears falling onto the younger woman's green uniform, making damp tracks in the dirt.

On the bridge, the last preparations were underway for "Operation Kaboom", the honours of naming the endeavour going to the recently arrived and freshly groomed Tom Paris, who almost rubbed his hands with glee as he squirmed in his seat at the helm. The other bridge officers, who had had to do the actual work involved, were less than excited.

"Tom, relax, it's just an asteroid impact, we've seen thousands of them before," said Harry Kim, looking up from his console for long enough to catch his friend's grin. "Just wait, okay; I've nearly finished the calculations."

From the Captain's chair, Janeway turned to Tuvok. The Vulcan was standing in his customary position, hands behind his back with an expression of total serenity, yet the captain knew of her trusted friend's uneasiness, and that worried her. Even the slightest miscalculation in the asteroid's configuration, speed, torpedo payload or direction could have a catastrophic effect on their future, on the future of Earth and humankind. With a final glance at the beautiful blue and green world she was about to send into chaos, she sat up straighter in her chair.

"Ready, Mr. Kim?"

"Aye, Captain."

"Fire when ready." No tense countdown, no dramatic last words, for Janeway knew that the outcome was her responsibility, and hers alone, and that they would only know whether their bold plan had succeeded when they returned to their own time, 65 million years away – and 65 thousand light years, for the journey back had to be constructed exactly in reverse in order to put Voyager back where it started, in the Delta Quadrant of the 23rd Century.

**Epilogue**

The thin, stooped figure stood unmoving, huddled in a thick coat and shivering despite its warmth. Before him, the clear waters of a river glittered in the winter sun, a faint red hue adorning the ripples as dusk fell. For the last time, Professor Grout pried open the box he had kept safe for decades, his bony fingers touching the smooth surface of the metallic fragment inside. It looked unremarkable, like a piece of fresh iron, yet it held secrets that were far beyond his understanding. He held it for a moment and then, as the last rays of the sun dwindled into darkness, cast the object into the depths of the Isis.


End file.
